


as the world caves in

by polariz3



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Needs a Hug, Akechi Goro-centric, Angst, Confessional, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Sad Ending, Soft Akechi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:33:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25717345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polariz3/pseuds/polariz3
Summary: akechi struggles with his mortality. wouldn't anyone?
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	as the world caves in

**Author's Note:**

> this is best read as it was written: while listening to "as the world caves in" by matt maltese. by the way, I have no idea how church confessionals work.

“You summoned me out of the blue for… a confessional?”

“It’s for the Phantom Thieves.”

“You say that like I wouldn’t have already figured.” Akechi huffs, pausing for just a moment. “Fine,” he says, as if he hadn’t already decided to do it the moment he showed up, “I’ll do it.”

Akira gives him one of those infuriatingly blank nods, though he can sense at least a modicum of gratitude behind it. 

He settles himself into the old, musty booth, unsure of what, exactly, he’s supposed to do. He politely folds his hands in his lap, as if expecting some kind of interview. He’s somewhat aware of how to start, so as soon as he hears the priest settle in, he begins with a quiet, “forgive me, father, I have sinned.” Past that, however, he’s not totally sure.

Once the priest actually speaks, he realizes how much he’s sweating. He rubs his clammy hands on his pants in such a way he would only ever do in privacy like this. He knows he’s been asked what sins he’s committed, but he can barely understand the words from across the divider. He hates the sweat on his skin. The church is cold, full of January air. It’s a tangible reminder of the anxiety breaking through his composure. 

“I know I’m going to die soon,” he blurts, “and I… I’ve done some bad things. I’ve hurt people, both strangers and people I care about.” The words are hot on his tongue, burning his throat as they come up. It feels disgusting. He hates to reflect, hates to admit, and most of all, he hates to think about what will happen to him in the future. “I’ve made so many mistakes, I don’t know where to start.”

“It sounds like you need to make amends.”

“With God?”

“Not necessarily,” the priest says, “I mean with the people you’ve hurt. The Lord forgives all, but people are different.” 

People are different. The rest of his confessional passes in a blur as he merely repeats the prayers he’s told to, but that thought lingers with him. He composes himself for a few seconds before he feels like he can exit the booth with his dignity. He tries to be cordial with Akira, but he’s certain he can see the gears in his eyes turning, which he knows to mean that his rival is on to him. 

“This was a valuable experience. I suppose I owe you thanks for bringing me here.”

Akira nods. “Want me to walk with you?”

For a split second, he’s torn between being alone to think and having company to keep himself from spiraling. And although he tells himself it doesn’t matter, he chooses the latter. Their footsteps are loud as they exit the church, but once they spill out into the street, the surrounding noise all but drowns them out. A few pensive moments pass before either of them speak, with Akechi being the one to break the silence. He’s not sure what to say, but he opens his mouth anyway, something that makes him cringe with how stupid he sounds.

“Do you think… do you think I’m a bad person?”

Akira nearly short-circuits. He knows something is wrong if Akechi, of all people, is asking for validation. “Not at all.”

“Even with what I’ve done?”

A few more seconds pass in silence as they walk. “Why are you asking?”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“I suppose mortality does that to people.” He says it without thinking before he realizes how insensitive he probably sounds. “Sorry, it just makes sense.” 

Cars pass them by. Akechi can hear people talking and laughing. He hates how saccharine this reality is, how enticing it is to everyone, seemingly, besides him. He clenches his fingers around the keys in his pocket, hard enough to hurt despite his gloves. Akira is right. And it hurts. In spite of how he’s always imagined himself, being confronted with death hurts. 

“I think you’ve done bad things.” He presses the button and stops to wait for the crosswalk. “I don’t think you’re bad on the inside, though.”

Akira says it like it’s no big deal, and deep in his tone of voice, Akechi can almost hear that therapist-like, universal compassion he always has mixing with pity. It makes his chest hot with frustration. He’s glad Akira isn’t watching as he tries to control his expression.

“I’ll miss you,” Akira remarks casually, and it’s all it takes to drive solid emotion straight through his chest. 

Akechi wants to say he knows, wants desperately to maintain that aloof, irritable demeanor, but he can’t anymore. He watches through blurred eyes as Akira whirls around, confused at the sob that escapes him. Before he knows what’s happening, he’s breaking down, furiously wiping tears from his eyes as fast as he can, trying and failing to stop them from streaming down his face. 

“Akechi? Are you okay?” His arm reaches instinctively across Akechi’s shoulders. He feels like he’s dragging him into a safe room. “Hey, come this way.”

For the first time, he allows himself to be led, trusting Akira’s direction. 

In a side alleyway branching off the street, Akira pulls his hands away from his face and wipes away his tears with his sleeve. As much as he’s used to being a confidant, he isn’t used to being so close with anyone this way. Akechi tries to keep it in, but he’s not as able to as he should be. He leans against Akira, pulled into a stifling hug without protest. 

“I’m sorry,” Akechi murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” 

Having his hair stroked softly, held so close that he would be able to hear Akira’s heartbeat if not for his own pathetic sobbing, ears soaked with whispered comfort from the only person that matters, he feels out of place. It’s so intimate, _too_ intimate. It only serves to make it worse. His chest burns, his face is wet, and his hands cling their way around Akira’s torso without him even realizing it. It’s horrific, and in any other state, it would be humiliating to boot. 

“It’s okay,” he keeps repeating, “I promise. I’ll be here as long as you need.”

“God, stop it,” he sobs, “you’re making it hurt more.”

“It’ll stop hurting if you cry it out,” Akira says. Each sob tears into him. It’s brutal to see him this way. 

As the minutes pass, Akechi becomes softer and softer. His cries become whimpers, then sniffles. He realizes how tightly he’s squeezing and opts to loosen his grip. To make matters worse, he’s painfully aware of the massive damp patch he’s left on Akira’s coat. He’s fully conscious of the fact that he cannot maneuver his way from this position. He has fully ripped back the layers of personality to expose the innermost core of himself, and there is no going back from that kind of vulnerability. It occurs to him that his only option is to accept it, and given the circumstances, he’s sure he can do that at least. However, his lack of wiggle room makes him unsure of what to say, unable to merely brush it off. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk.” The remark leaves Akechi startled, feeling as if his mind had been read. 

“I… I’m not sure.”

“That’s fine. Let’s go home.”

Akechi intuitively knows that by home, he means Leblanc. The idea of his own empty apartment is daunting so he nods and follows. 

It’s dark by the time they arrive, and Sojiro has already left, something for which Akechi is immensely grateful. Nobody is around to see his puffy eyes or his sad expression, absolving him of the need to mask his feelings. The stairs creak under his feet and he’s so, so aware of how his hours here are numbered, so aware of the fact that he doesn’t have much time left. It drives fear into his mind, bringing breathless tears back to his eyes. He breathes in deeply, hoping to stifle it before Akira notices. Some part of him is still instinctively secretive. 

They remove their shoes and coats in silence, Akechi hanging up his scarf with gentle hands, feeling Akira’s eyes on him even if he can’t see him. 

“Would you like to stay?”

The offer feels like a lifeline. “Of course.”

“Make yourself comfortable. I have some movies we can watch if you don’t want to talk still. It’s up to you.”

He’s so tired that when he finally gets the opportunity to sit, he ends up sprawled out on Akira’s bed. The sheets smell like coffee, as expected, but there’s this bit of something he can only describe as _Akira_. It’s soothing beyond belief. He feels the mattress sink near the end but he doesn’t open his eyes until he’s being spoken to.

“You keep pretending you’re okay with what’s happening.”

“I am okay with it.” 

“You just broke down crying in public because I said I’d miss you. That’s pretty far from ‘okay.’”

“I’ve accepted what will happen to me,” he says confidently, as if he isn’t just repeating himself.

“Clearly you haven’t accepted being missed. You just think it’s all okay as long as you’re accepting it, right!?” The speed at which Akira turns aggressive leaves him stunned. “Haven’t you thought about anyone else!? You think I’m okay with you dying!?”

He sits up to look him in the eyes. “You can’t possibly be willing to let things stay as they are.”

“I’m not!”

“Then what are you complaining for!?”

“Can’t I be upset that you’re going to fucking die and there’s nothing I can do!?” Akira’s eyes are shimmering, implicitly threatening to gut him the moment his tears spill over. His voice becomes quiet. “You know that if it weren’t for how stubborn you are, I’d choose you.”

Akechi wants to be angry. He really does. But he just can’t muster it.

“Why won’t you let me?” His words crack as they pass his lips. 

“I can’t let you choose me over everything else. I just can’t. You know why.”

Akechi can sense the resigned anger in his face but chooses not to comment on it. He’s once again swept up in Akira’s arms, pulled in close. This time it’s possessive, needy in a way he would never expect from him. He wouldn’t dare resist it even if he wanted to. 

“We should sleep,” Akechi requests despite knowing he’s in no position to make any such thing, “it’s late.”

Only when Akira pulls away can he see the tear tracks on his cheeks. “You… you need more comfortable clothes if you’re staying the night.” Without waiting for an answer, he dedicates himself to fetching some, finding it far easier to focus on some altruistic task than to sit and feel sorry for himself. He hands over a shirt and pants, then turns to go downstairs. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I need something to drink.”

He changes and lays down, wishing he couldn’t hear the stray sniffles and hiccups from down the stairs. With his eyes closed, he listens to Akira get dressed into pajamas of his own and approach the bed. 

“Akechi?” He whispers.

Seeing no response, he climbs into bed next to him. And although he maintains a polite distance, he reaches out and wraps a hand around Akechi’s head, threading fingers into his hair. He doesn’t pull him close, but he spends a moment staring into his serene face before he can bring himself to let go, get settled, and close his own eyes.

Akechi tries not to cry once more. 

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished p5r the other day and it obliterated me. sorry I disappeared for a year only to come back and write angst.


End file.
